


An Alternate Route

by MyValentina



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life, day in the life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyValentina/pseuds/MyValentina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a day in the life of Alexandria's recruiters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Alternate Route

**Author's Note:**

> I really just started this fic to try and get a sense of these two guys as characters. There's a story developing, but certainly this first chapter was just practice to see if I could write in Daryl or Aaron's voice.

“What now?” Aaron said coming to stop at the banks of a newly formed river. Daryl paced at the edges of it, grumbling as he searched for a way to cross, but the once dry valley was completely submerged. 

Studying their map Aaron concluded a dam must have broken farther north.

“Can’t go over it, can’t go under it, can’t go around it…” Aaron hummed.

“We ain’t swimming through it.” Daryl finished, and Aaron chuckled.

“We sleep here tonight. We’ll figure it out in the morning.” Daryl said, unloading traps from his motorcycle and leaving Aaron to set up camp.

Aaron looked out over the river, trees and the tops of buildings peeked out of the water giving him an estimation of the depth of the river. He took their map and drew wavy lines over an area called Bushman’s valley.

Daryl returned just after dusk with a rabbit for dinner, but no good news about a way around the water so they rested. The non-wooded area made lookout easy, as they were able to see for miles, and with the lake at their backs they slept well.

In the morning they ate some dried meats and fruits from their supplies and got about discussing a new plan.

“By the looks of it this whole section is unreachable now.” Aaron said, stretching out the map on the ground between them. “Which means we’ve cut our trip short; we pack up; we go home.” He said, showing Daryl his estimation of the flooding where he had drawn little squiggles on the map.

Daryl scratched the scruff on his chin as he looked intently at the map. With a sigh he looked back up at the river before them, the water lazily moving down river as if it always had.

Aaron raised an eyebrow watching Daryl stare across the river.

“Don’t tell me your considering swimming across it?” Aaron said, to which Daryl was quick to respond.

“No!” He gave Aaron a quick glare, before looking back. “How long ago d’you think it flooded.” He asked.

Aaron followed Daryl’s gaze, seeing a whole lot of nothing. He frowned.

“Can’t be sure. I don’t know this area too well. Why?”

“The water left from somewhere, right?”

“Yeah,” Aaron said, looking down at the map. “So what? Just walk along the river until we have to turn back around?”

“Better’n going back now.” Daryl mumbled, getting to his feet.

Aaron pouted, a sense of dread settling in his stomach, something about the scale of it all. It was bigger than he could really grasp. He got to his feet, picking up the map and joining Daryl as the man was mounting his bike.

“You know that thunderstorm you and your group were caught in?” He asked. Daryl paused and narrowed his eyes.

“What about it?”

Aaron had been out in that storm too. Following them, watching them. He had just managed to find a car to stuff himself into before the worst of it hit. The ferocity of the winds and hail sent branches through the windshield leaving him huddled alone and scared in the backseat of some other person’s car.

He had avoided walkers and survivors well enough just to almost be taken out by a fast moving storm. He looked at the lake that used to be a valley.

“Nothing. I mean, maybe the storm overtaxed the dam. Maybe that’s when the river overflowed its banks.” He said, with a shrug. Daryl mirrored his motions, adding a disinterested grunt for good measure and revved his engine.

Aaron moved around to get into his car. The road could only take them so far along this new lake. Eventually they’d have to find a place to hide their vehicles and walk to find out the state of the overflowed river. They had less than a weeks worth of supplies, and no fear of the unknown. None that Aaron would admit to, at least.

~ 

They had expected to be able to drive a good ways before having to leave their vehicles behind, but the flooding was worse up stream. Many roads just fed directly into Bushmans River, formally Bushmans Valley. They spotted a barn out in the middle of a farm and after clearing out a couple of walkers, they stashed the car and Daryl’s motorcycle. 

The air was picking up autumn chills, which Daryl was grateful for, his usual getup, of black on black on leather fitting him comfortably. They made observations, and adjustments to their map as they walked, but kept quiet most of the time.

Their rapport fascinated Aaron, because it was so different then the one he shared with Eric. Of course it was. Daryl and Eric were two completely different people.

And yet Aaron felt comfortable in each of their presence whether he was telling jokes and sordid stories with Eric, or just a quick and precise judgment call with Daryl. He appreciated the silence he could share with Daryl.

For the most part.

“Can I ask you a question?” He said. Daryl shrugged, and Aaron took that as a yes. “How is a raven like a writing desk?”

“What?” Daryl said, turning to look at him.

“How is a raven like a writing desk? It’s a nonsense riddle from Alice and Wonderland. I don’t even think it has an answer.” He said.

“If it don’t have an answer then it ain’t no riddle.” He said. 

“There are a lot of unsolved riddles.”

“Like what?”

“How the universe was created.”

Daryl made a dismissive sound.

“Which came first the chicken or the egg!”

Daryl made an even louder dismissive sound and and it made Aaron chuckle.

“What’s your point?” Daryl said, slowing his pace to give Aaron an annoyed glare.

“Where do we go from here?”

Daryl cocked his head, and Aaron did a double take, the cat like movement amusing coming from the experienced hunter.

“Sorry. I mean, look,” He said, pointing in front of them. They had climbed to the top of a small hill, and on getting to the top they were able to see the full power of the river.

From their vantage point they could see where the main river had diverged, most of it spilling over into Bushman’s valley, leaving a mostly dried out lake bed in it’s wake. Aaron took out their map.

“Looks like we have a clear shot to this place now.” Daryl said, tapping a little town on the map called Solto.

“I suppose we do.” Aaron said, taking out his pen to mark on the map. He made hatch marks over the lake that surrounded the small town, and renamed it Barrier Flats. 

“Come on.” Daryl said, looking up at the dying afternoon light.

Aaron fumbled with the map in his hands as he tried to finish making his chicken scratches, but just gave up. He folded it and returned it to his pockets. 

As the sun sat heavy at the horizon they shuffled into a now useless boathouse. It had a wonderful view of the dry lakebed, and there in the distance was the silhouette of the town of Solto.

As they settled down for the night, Aaron couldn’t get rid of the feeling of dread so he offered to take the first watch of the night. As the moon rose high in the sky, lighting the ground in white brilliance, he took the time to study their surroundings. It made him feel better to study what they would later be walking through.

Patches of water still littered the length of the lakebed, but most of it was now just rocks, silt, dried up reeds, and the scattered remains of sunken canoes. Who knows what else they would see at ground level; things lost and willfully dumped into the lake by the citizens of Solto.

Aaron could just barely make out where the river used to feed into the lake at the far end near the start of a forest. From the looks of it, the flood had dragged enough debris to block the mouth of the river forcing the water south towards Bushmans Valley.

Daryl grumbled, seemingly in his sleep. From the light of the half moon, Aaron could see that his face was scrunched together in a deep frown. What did a man like Daryl dream of? He wondered. 

With a sigh Daryl opened his eyes.

“I give up.”

“What?” Aaron asked.

“I can’t stop thinking about that damn raven!” He griped, sitting up and running his hands through his dirty hair. Aaron began to laugh, but it just made Daryl angrier.

“You’re shifts over.” He declared and got up from his bed. He walked to the end of the boathouse, going out and sitting along the dock. Aaron settled back into his pack with a smile, watching the hunter swing his legs off of the dock in a childish petulance.

_How **is** a raven like a writing desk?_


End file.
